Gunshot
by OllieCollie
Summary: Now, the sight of blood wasn't something that fazed Clay—if it did, he had definitely chosen the wrong profession—but the fact that it was all coming from him was a tad bit concerning.


**A/N: The title is killer original, I know. But I wanted to post this and I was done thinking, so it is what it is, I guess. :P**

**Just a quick one-shot, and my first post in this fandom. Drop a review if you liked it!**

_**Disclaimer: I don't own these guys, I just get to play with them.**_  
_**Also, I'm no Navy SEAL, so my vocabulary there is not extensive. I know only what I see from the show.**_

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"Bravo Six is down! I repeat, Bravo Six is down!"

Sonny's guttural voice blared through Spenser's comms—or maybe it just seemed so loud due to the fact that the other SEAL was crouching right next to him. The sounds of gunshots and yelling echoed in his ears as he tried to regain his bearings. He remembered stepping into the room…firing his weapon…taking out the enemy even as he went down.

"I'm good, I'm good," Clay gasped out, struggling to sit up. They didn't have time to stop. His leg, however, didn't agree. The burning sensation flared up even at the slight movement, and he bit back a pained growl. Adrenaline was a powerful thing, but even it didn't totally eradicate the pain of a gunshot wound.

He managed to separate the jumble of voices enough to focus on the conversation occurring over the comms.

"Bravo One, we've got a situation." Mandy kept her tone even, but Clay could make out the underlying concern. "A group of Taliban fighters is approaching from the northeast. Estimated five minutes before they reach your position."

"How'd they get wind of the op?" Irritation covered Jason's worry well. Clay could practically hear their team leader swearing—off the comms, of course. However, as usual, he stayed collected and focused on figuring out their next move. "Bravo Three, what's Six's status?"

Sonny glanced over at Clay. "Worse if we don't get outta here 'fore them insurgents arrive."

"I'm good," Clay repeated, his voice hoarse. He knew if he sat any longer, the pain would get to him. So he sucked in a deep breath and, in one swift motion, pushed himself to his feet. If the injured SEAL nearly passed out, he'd never admit it to anyone. He felt warm liquid soaking his pant leg and risked a glance downward. There was blood _everywhere_.

Now, the sight of blood wasn't something that fazed Clay—if it did, he had definitely chosen the wrong profession—but the fact that it had all come from _him _was a tad bit concerning. At least it explained the light-headedness he was currently experiencing.

"Four minutes," came the warning from TOC. "Helos are in route. Touching down in less than two minutes."

"Sorry, kid." Sonny gave him an apologetic look. "You know if we don't go now—"

"Might not get out...at all," Clay grunted, bracing himself against his friend, his rifle hanging limply in his other hand. "Let's go." He knew they had to hurry.

The two backtracked to where they'd entered the building, Sonny practically dragging the younger Bravo Team member along. Clay did his best to keep up, but his injured leg wasn't doing him any favors. He gritted his teeth and pressed on.

Voices rambled on in his ear, prepping and planning for exfil. Somehow Clay had missed the "target secured" announcement, but he assumed Jason and the others had things under control. Right now, he had to focus on putting one foot in front of the other and making sure there were no surprises waiting for him and Sonny as they made their exit. Because they had approximately two minutes until they were outmanned—a nice way to say dead. Needless to say, the team needed to be _out_.

A rush of air hit his face, and he realized they were passing through the door. The whirr of the helos filled the night.

"Go, go!" Hayes was yelling—since when had _he _appeared?—as the rest of the team filtered out of the doorway, their "package" along with them.

Clay might've only been half-conscious and leaking out his life's blood supply, but he knew the dangers of making a run for the helos when they were so exposed. He hoped they'd taken care of all the guards inside, but the quickly-approaching men would probably still have their chance to take a few good shots at the team. They had to run, and they had to run now.

He was caught up in the blur of the moment—the way his body was jolted with every step they took, the burning pain exploding in his upper leg, the men around him shouting and shooting and running all at once…just, _everything_.

And then suddenly, it was silent. It was as if the world had come to a stuttering halt.

Clay blinked, his heart pounding as his mind raced, trying to piece his memories together. The gunshots and explosions had stopped. The only sound was the purr of the helo as it raced through the night.

"Spenser… Clay, Clay!" Someone was calling his name. His face scrunched up and he moaned, trying to find the will to open his mouth and answer.

"Yeah...all good," he managed to mutter, squinting in the direction of whoever had just spoken.

Somebody snorted. "He sure looks it, don't he, boys?"

Something was pressed to his wound, and he couldn't help the weak grunt of pain that escaped as he pressed his head back against the interior of the helicopter. Despite the pulse of pain in his leg, the young SEAL tried his best for a signature charming Clay Spenser grin. "Sure—barely a…a scratch."

"Right," came Sonny's drawn out response. "That's how come you almost passed out three times and I near had to carry you outta there."

"I'll let you...pretend to be the—the hero, Sonny, 'cause I know your ego needs it," Clay huffed out, a breathy laugh on his lips.

Chuckles broke out among the rest of the guys in the helo, relief at making it out of another tight spot beginning to make itself known. Silence took over the group for a moment before Hayes spoke up. "Good work, boys." He nodded once.

Clay relaxed. They would be all right. They'd dodged another bullet—well, not entirely, he decided, chagrined as he gazed at his leg. But they'd captured their quarry, and now they could go home.

Another mission accomplished.


End file.
